


pledge

by Rest



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fraternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 08:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8243221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rest/pseuds/Rest
Summary: Holster and Ransom pledge AEX as freshmen.
(A very short story set in a universe that's only ever-so-slightly to the left of canon.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Someone asked for a Ransom/Holster frat AU. An interesting exercise, given the inherent frattiness of CP canon.

They’re nursing hangovers with what Ransom has told Holster is a secret cure he devised the summer after freshman year. It’s actually Gatorade. The powdered kind, made with way more powder than the instructions say to use. Basically a bucket of electrolytes.

It’s their first semester of senior year.

“Hey, let’s do it,” Ransom says. “Like, actually. Let’s actually get out.”

“Get out from where?” Holster asks the ceiling. They’re both lying on their backs on the floor of the room they share. They woke up that way. Ransom went downstairs, made them Gatorade, came back and laid down on the floor.

——

Holster and Ransom pledge AEX as freshmen. They bond during bid week. Ransom’s not sure what they bond over. One moment they’re meeting for the first time and the next moment they’re finishing each other’s sentences. It’s uncanny, or something. Whatever the word is.

——

AEX isn’t a bad place to secure a bid. For one thing, AEX’s historian is a senior when they’re freshmen, so they get to co-inherit the title when he graduates. For another, KAO’s hazing is friendly and fun. Ransom’s heard stuff about KAO, okay, and everybody remembers the police report on TKE that got published in the university newspaper. Ransom carefully chose to rush AEX after investigating in a few ways: talking in-depth with a couple of his older cousins who rushed frats at different schools, Googling furiously, and asking anybody who didn’t seem to totally fit the _image_ about their experiences in their frat. There was a spreadsheet. Ransom loves spreadsheets.

——

“We should just go,” Holster says to him in their sophomore year.

“To the kitchen?” Ransom asks. They’d been talking about making grilled cheeses about half an hour ago, before they got sucked into more beer and 30 Rock.

“No, like… go. This is great,” Holster says. He gestures between himself and Ransom. “What if we just ran with it, right?”

“Where?” Ransom asks.

“Like, out of the fucking—New England bullshit—you know there are people who’ve never worn salmon-colored shorts in their _lives_ ,” Holster says. “I wanna be one of them.”

“I like my salmon shorts, bro,” Ransom says, mock-hurt. He does get what Holster’s saying, a little.

——

Ransom’s family cares about him a lot. They also want him to be a future heart surgeon with a 4.0 GPA, a full-ride scholarship to cover the difference between his grant aid and the cost of tuition, and all of the social signifiers, Ransom guesses, that his dad didn’t get when he was in school. It’s high pressure that comes from a good place.

——

Holster’s family cares about him a lot, too. They have all of the social signifiers that Ransom’s family wants him to have. They also have a solid foothold in the wealth management industry. It’s treated as a given that Holster will go into the executive track after graduation. He doesn’t really need an MBA. Not if his older brother can refer him to a junior associate position.

Holster emphatically does not want that position. He gets more antsy about it as the years go on.

——

“Get out from where?” Holster asks the ceiling.

“Like, the whole thing,” Ransom says. “Salmon shorts. Heart surgeoning. Junior Executive VP In Charge Of Business Associate Relations.”

“You’re so fucking excited for med school,” Holster says. “What even.”

“I don’t wanna be a heart surgeon, though. Not really. There are, like, so many other organs to… surge.”

“Surgery? Uh, operate on.”

“Yeah. Like, all of the ones that aren’t hearts. Ugh, or brains. The worst.”

“What’s a good one to operate one? I’d think those would be, like, the top.”

Ransom shrugs. “They’re difficult. But, you know, there’s other stuff. Like, obstetrics? Oh, plastics, too.”

“Plastic surgery?” Holster asks. He sounds unimpressed.

“Or obstetrics,” Ransom emphasizes. “Anyway, plastics are way more than like, whatever. You can really change somebody’s life with that. Especially in a hospital setting, like, ER stuff. 3D printing is going to blow that field wide open in the next hundred years.”

“Cool,” Holster says. “Actually. It is.”

——

Holster has kind of a crush, Ransom thinks. And Holster has very nice cheekbones. Sophomore year, Ransom thinks that doing something about it would be madness. Sophomore year, Ransom thinks Holster knows that about as well as Ransom does.

——

Junior year, Holster gets really, spectacularly wasted and pushes Ransom against their bedroom door to slobber all over his neck. Ransom usually makes sure he’s nearby during parties, in case Holster does a keg stand. (Holster has an unfortunate habit of doing keg stands.) He didn’t, this time, and look what happened. Maybe Ransom should leave Holster to his own devices more often.

——

When Holster was thirteen, he told Ransom once, he tried to come out to his parents. They didn’t want to hear it. The kids in the family around his age all know, which is something. Ransom’s almost the opposite—his immediate family pretty much knows, but it’s quiet among extended Oluransi family members. Ransom is not about to be The Gay Cousin.

——

Ransom is not about to be The Gay Cousin, but he is not above being The Bi AEX Dude Who Made Out With That Delta Delta Chi Girl And Her EOI Boyfriend Upstairs During The Under The Sea Party.

——

“Cool,” Holster says. “Actually. It is.”

“Yeah,” Ransom says. “Look, if you don’t want to fuck with Junior VP Whatever, you just. Shouldn’t. I know it’s easier said than done, but you’ll find _something_.”

“You know what?” Holster asks. “I’m into that. I’ve thought about it. Taking the CPA exam. Setting up as a contractor. Or doing accounting at a firm, instead of the business management side.”

“If you think that sounds better, you should do it,” Ransom says. “I know you’re not used to like, not having a cook and forty maids and a flying car, but living in fancy house in a bougie suburb without all of that is just as good.”

“Shut up,” Holster says, giggling and then moaning in pain.

“Is that a ‘shut up and yes, definitely, what a good idea, Ransom, you are so handsome and smart?’”

“God,” Holster says. “Whatever. It was my idea, anyway. But yes. Fuck. Let’s do it.”

“Med students usually live off-campus, for certain values of ‘live,’” Ransom says. He makes finger quotes. “You’ll be paid an okay amount and I’ll be living large on student loans. We’ll find an apartment together somewhere. I’ll teach you how to fend for yourself.”

Holster’s hand flops over. He grabs Ransom’s left wrist. “I’d really like that,” he says.

“Looking forward to it,” Ransom says softly. He puts his right hand on top of Holster’s hand and pats it.

Graduation is, what, seven months away? And med school is three or four after that. Less than a year until they get their own place. They’re gonna have a good time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes! Very un-beta'ed and very un-proofread.
> 
> Find me at restfic.tumblr.com!


End file.
